


Chemical Romance

by TwentyOnePhan



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, bookstore dennis, dennis is moronsexual, holly and tabby i owe u my life, mac is a dumbass, rockstar mac!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwentyOnePhan/pseuds/TwentyOnePhan
Summary: Mac is a famous rockstar, with everything he could ever want except somebody he feels he can truly depend onDennis owns a bookstore and spends most of his life feeling lonely and unsatisfiedWhen two worlds collide, turns out they got a lot more in common than they thought
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Kudos: 34





	Chemical Romance

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY SHIT HERE WE ARE!!!!!!!!!!!!! god im kinda proud of this and i got tabs and holly to thank!!!!! i love you guys so so much i owe u absolutely everything💓💓💓💓 i can’t thank u guys enough i adore you <3 macden rights i hope u guys enjoy this !!!!! (i’ll update later w italics i just cba rn im too busy eating ham w tabs)

“We’re Chemical Toilet! Fuck you Philadelphia and goodnight!”

Mac and Charlie bounced backstage, the roar of the crowd echoing behind them, their ears ringing. They were dripping with sweat, Mac’s eyeliner smeared all around his eyes and Charlie’s hair greasy and sticking up at all angles. Whooping and grinning madly, they barrelled into their dressing room, stumbling, tipsy and high on adrenaline. Charlie looked manic, wide eyes and cheshire cat smile; Mac knew he didn’t look much saner. 

It had been a good show, the best in a long time. Maybe it was just the knowledge that they were home, back in the city that raised them, that seemed to amplify every emotion, every guitar solo and lyric, till Mac was certain their pre-show drinks were laced or something. He could feel the crowd’s screaming thrumming in his head, the vibration from the guitar strings shooting through his veins till he felt like he was on goddamn heroin, Charlie’s wails piercing his ears and making him grin. 

Yeah, it was a damn good show. 

Cracking open a couple beers, they lay on the couch as their crew frantically packed up around them. Charlie kept sighing and laughing softly every once in a while, still spaced out (probably on glue or paint Mac suspected; despite their high status, Charlie never strayed from his usual poison for pre-show fixes) 

Mac sighed, coming down from the buzz. He knew exactly how the rest of his evening would unfold; get shoved into a van, carted off to a stupidly fancy hotel, get wolfed by paparazzi, pass out on the bed (or floor, depending how drunk he could get) and wake up mid-day to a killer migraine to repeat the whole cycle again. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his life, he did! He was doing what he had always dreamed of - making a name for himself, touring the world with his best friend, playing music for a living and getting paid a shit ton for it. Not to mention the millions of adoring fans falling at his feet, trying every tactic in the book to worm their way into his pants. He was, in every way possible, living the goddamn dream. Everything he could ever want, he got (usually from hot babes with giant tits too) but something felt .. wrong. He had this void inside him, in his heart, that no amount of drinking or cheap, easy lays seemed to be able to fill. It was stupid of him to want something more, but he just felt so lonely. He tried to talk about it to Charlie once but his bandmate didn’t seem to quite grasp it, couldn’t feel exactly how deep this was tearing Mac apart. Mac was surrounded by so many people but simultaneously none at all. If they couldn’t get something from him, be it fame, money, sex or drinks, they tended to get nasty quick. Everyone felt so fake and shallow, constantly ready and waiting to tear the crown from his head the second he fucked up, leaving him paranoid and on edge and, God, was it fucking draining. Mac knew it was selfish but he needed something more, someone he could depend on, someone who didn’t give a shit about his fame but liked him for him. It was totally un-rockstar like Charlie had said, but even if he never got it, Mac wouldn’t be hurting anyone for thinking about it right?

Mac sighed loudly, stomach knotting and mind spiralling. “Charlie?” He turned to the other man for advice but was met with loud snores, Charlie passed out beside him. Whatever. He pouted. He didn’t need anyone, he was totally fine with his life, could live the rockstar way for, like, ever. Nothing bothered him, he was Mac for christ’s sake! 

Just.. would be nice, he guessed, to have someone around, but it's whatever. It’s fine, he’s fine. Or at least he will be.

_______________________

Frank was yelling at him through the phone, Dennis was highly aware, he was just choosing to ignore him. Placing his phone on the counter, he left Frank to abuse dead air as he opened up shop; waltzing around arranging books to the symphony his father’s tinny swearing through the speaker. Eventually, Dennis grew bored of staying silent and swiftly tapped the end call button, grinning at himself. “Take that, you old fat bitch”

Settling behind the counter, Dennis sighed happily. This was his dream life. The illusion of power, of running an establishment when in fact, he just sat around all day bitching with his sister while his father paid off his bills and the costs to keep this piece of shit running. He did the absolute bare minimum each day and intended to keep it that way for, ideally, eternity. Plus the bookstore often drew in young, artsy yet unconventionally hot students to which Dennis thanked whatever deity was up there for blessing him with. Getting lays was easier than ever, he just lamented on about the dying art of poetry or whatever and boom, some prat named Edward or Claude was sucking his dick.

Kicking his feet up on the counter, he opened his phone and began texting his sister. No one would come in for hours, he needed some company.

where r u bitch? don’t forget coffee on ur way here.

Huffing at the lack of immediate response from Dee, he opened Instagram. Mindless scrolling usually did the trick to fill up the morning. Selfie. Selfie. Family photo? Ew. Some concert last night. Dee trying to be a comedian, disgusting. Selfie. The sound of the bell alerted him of his sister’s arrival, to which Dennis just stuck out an expectant hand for his coffee. He waited. After making a grabby motion, Dee sighed dramatically and soon he gripped something hot and solid. Smugly, he smiled to himself, drawing the steaming paper cup to his nose and inhaling deeply, letting the aroma crowd his senses before taking a sip. God, much better. Feeling sociable already, he looked up and made eye contact with his twin, still glaring at him with piercing blue eyes. It was remarkable how similar they looked sometimes, especially when they were pissed off. Dennis didn’t like it. 

“Good morning Deandra. You look like shit.”, he sing-songed, if only to push her buttons. It worked as her frown deepened and she began ranting.

“Thank you Dennis! Maybe I wouldn’t feel so shitty if I didn’t have to get up before noon on a Saturday to go stand around in a stupid bookstore all day! You don’t even pay me you dick, I’m pretty sure that’s illegal!” Her nostrils flared as she exhaled dramatically to round off her outburst. It was pretty much the same complaints as usual so Dennis elected to ignore them.

“Well, I, personally, am doing great, thank you for asking. Another day sitting around doing nothing? Can’t see why you’re complaining.” Dee squawked indignantly and went off into another rant of how she had so much better things to do (unlikely) so Dennis tuned her out, returning to scroll through Instagram. He eyed up his recent selfie, posted exactly 18 hours ago. Not nearly enough likes as he would’ve preferred. He grumbled to himself, which seemed to draw Dee from her rousing speech on the injustice of modern day slavery (or something like that)

“Dennis? Are you even goddamn listening to me? Oh you goddamn son of a bitch. Why don’t you ever-”

Smirking, Dennis only looked up to clink his cup against hers. “Good morning to you too.”

The rest of the day went by uneventfully much to his delight. Together, the twins wasted the hours gossiping about this thing or the next; Dee’s new girlfriend, what Frank was pissed off about now and that customer’s horrendously ugly sweater (“I get that they’re an art student Dee but there’s only so abstract you can allow clothes to get before it’s just downright disgusting.”) After exhausting their usual bitching topics, the two resided to social media. Curled up in chairs, they sat in silence, aside from the odd chuckle at something they’d seen and shown the other. Dennis had forgotten he was even at work at all until the bell above the door chimed, signalling the entrance of a customer. The twins shared a slightly surprised look and peered over the counter to glimpse at whoever had walked in. 

_______________________

Mac had, as expected, woken up with one hell of a migraine on the hotel room floor. After wrestling with the shower’s stupid, fancy controls for longer than he’d admit, he’d blasted himself with an ice cold spray, staying under the jet streams long enough for his fingers to go numb. Despite the probable frostbite, it had worked, and no sooner was he dressed as casually as possible so as not to alert the paparazzi and out the door. 

He didn’t usually take to wandering the streets of whatever city they were playing that evening but, since they had booked two nights in Philly and, come on, it was his hometown, Mac felt drawn back out onto the streets. He felt content as he wandered through his old neighbourhood, admiring how little things had changed. Nostalgia washed over him like a wave, filling his mind with rose-tinted memories of a broken family and two scrappy kids tearing up and down the streets on their bikes and clinging to each other in the dark, knowing that the other was all they really had. Mac sighed and dipped his head, continuing on his way through the streets. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, just had to go somewhere, see something that was authentic and real. Being home filled him with a sense of bitterness, the knowledge that he could never truly get back his childhood, his innocence, no matter how hard he tried. Maybe that sinking feeling was what kept him away from Philly for so long. 

Mac’s eye was suddenly caught by something new, his attention shifting to a splash of colour amidst the usual greys he’d become accustomed to. A bookstore. Now that was weird as all hell in this area. It must've opened fairly recently, or at least after Mac’s last visit, because he could’ve sworn he’d never seen it before in his life. Edging closer, cautious - as if the windows would explode in a flurry of glass and flames - Mac got a better look at the store. It’s window display was lined with all those boring classics they tried to force Mac to read in high school, as well as what looked like poetry books. Wow, Mac snorted, what pretentious asshole works here. Opening the door, he sidled in as inconspicuously as possible, glancing around the shop. Said pretentious asshole seemed to be huddled behind the counter beside some blonde chick, Mac only catching a glance at a crown of styled, brown curls and two sets of narrowed blue eyes. Weird. 

He quickly ducked his head and tried to appear immersed in the stacks of books surrounding him, all the while feeling those eyes trained on him, watching. Mac didn’t think he had ever been in a bookstore and he knew he looked stupidly out of his depth, fumbling awkwardly between towering shelves and bumping into stacks of dust covered books that seemed to occupy every corner. Wincing, the careful silence he had attempted to maintain was shattered as a pile of books went flying to the ground, knocked by his elbow. 

“Hey, army boots! Watch what you’re fucking doing! You think I got all goddamn day to be picking up after bumbling idiots like you?” Mac bristled at the insult and whipped around to follow the whiny drawl coming from across the store. He locked eyes with who he had assumed was the owner, now at his full height, and stared him down. The man was tall but around Mac’s height with a head full of soft, brown curls, sharp, defined cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. He was lean, not too skinny, and held himself with a confidence, like he knew he was the best goddamn thing since sliced bread (The guy was just Mac’s type- wait, what? Mac dispelled that alarming thought from his head instantly) The stare off continued between the two for a couple seconds more before the other man huffed and motioned towards the pile on the floor. “Well? PIck them up asshole. I’m sure as hell not doing it.” The man seemed to mockingly laugh through his statement, turning to the chick beside him, as in disbelief at Mac’s behaviour. Mac had been told he had a bit of an anger problem and right now, he felt his blood boil, charging up to the counter.

“Don’t you goddamn speak to me that way, you son of a bitch! Don’t you know who I am?” That statement usually got whatever hassle he’d got himself into to dissipate fast; just because he never liked fame doesn’t mean he couldn’t at least use it to his advantage. Instead of the sheepish look that should’ve followed, Mac was met with a blank and slightly confused expression, nose scrunched in questioning. 

“What?”

Mac was taken aback; his usual one liner get-out-of-jail-free-card had failed. This situation was rare and he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. The guy wasn’t much of a threat, Mac could take him out easily if he needed to, it was just baffling that he somehow hadn’t recognised him. His face was on a goddamn billboard downtown, advertising his sold out show tonight! He continued to prompt him, trying to get a reaction. “Uhhhh, Mac? From Chemical Toilet? Giant rock band that has two sold out shows here? Ring a bell?” The blonde beside the man seemed to catch on, gasping then narrowing her eyes, but his face remained blank.

“Are you just saying words at me or am I meant to know what any of that means?” 

Oh. Holy shit. He really doesn’t know who I am. Mac was kinda in shock. He let out a soft Huh and stepped back, a small smile tugging at his lips. The man still seemed unamused but appreciative that there wasn’t going to be a fight in the middle of his shop. Mac quickly turned around and picked up the fallen books, shoving them haphazardly on another stack then returned to the counter, intrigued by the rude (hot) owner of this safety hazard of an establishment, who was now smirking down his nose at him, satisfied Mac had finally done what he’d asked. They stood in silence for a second before Mac quickly blurted out “My name’s Mac.” The man quirked his head, yet retained his smile. “Dennis.”

From there, they had got talking; Mac inquiring Dennis about everything he could think of - was this his shop, why’d he own it, had he grown up in Philly - until Dennis grew bored of answering and fired similar questions back at Mac. The girl beside him sighed exasperatedly from time to time, annoyed the attention wasn’t on her probably, but left the two to talk and scrolled on her phone instead. 

Mac felt drawn in by Dennis, unable to take his eyes off him - the way his carefully styled hair looked so soft and natural, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the certain half-lidded, inquisitive look in he got in his eyes when he was listening to Mac speak - Mac felt intoxicated by him. He could feel the heat rush to his cheeks, making him flush, whenever they held eye contact for too long or Dennis laughed naturally and unashamedly loud as Mac recounted stories of Charlie and himself in youth. He hoped Dennis didn’t notice. Mac was straight - totally, 100%! - so he didn’t know why his stomach was getting butterflies around Dennis, or why he kept blushing, or why he kept getting the urge to lean across and close the distance across the counter and- He was stopping that train of thought right there. 

The pair talked for hours, Mac migrating from in front of the counter to behind it, curled on the chair that was previously occupied by Dennis twin sister Dee, he had learned (she had left a while back, evident she was no longer required to keep Dennis company) The conversation had shifted to their childhoods, both realising the other had it shitty as well. “Yeah, my dad’s a dick. I mean, he’s not even my biological father, I just keep him around to pay the bills y’know?” Dennis leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. Mac ardently ignored the exposed strip of his stomach as his t-shirt rode up. 

“Wait, so he’s not even related to you, treats you like shit but you still keep him around? Couldn’t you just take some money from him and leave?”

Dennis shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s easier this way.”

Mac gave a hum of acknowledgment, the two falling back into comfortable silence. Dennis yawned, stretching back further (Mac almost passed out as the waistband of Dennis’ boxers became exposed, desperately trying to focus on anything else ) when it dawned on Mac how long they had been sitting there. He twisted around to peer outside, the streets bathed in a dusky glow, looking peaceful and serene in a way he hadn’t witnessed in a long time. He smiled softly to himself, content. Dennis shared a grin and stood up, offering a hand to drag Mac up with him. He accepted and felt his skin buzz with electricity when they touched, fire spreading through his hand from where Dennis’ soft, manicured fingertips touched. He wondered if Dennis felt it too, he truly hoped so. 

“Shit, is that the time? We really spent all afternoon here huh? I better close up I guess, you can stick around if you want. I’ll walk you home.” Dennis rambled slightly as he moved around the counter, half-heartedly shoving things away to look mildly acceptable. Mac froze. Shit, what was the time? Patting his pockets down frantically, he found his phone and whipped it out. The screen lit up with notifications. 4 missed calls from Charlie. 6 missed calls from their manager. An endless stream of “Where the fuck are you!!” texts. 

“Shit!” Mac swore and Dennis whipped around, head tilted. Mac tried not to get distracted by how cute the other man looked and grabbed his jacket. “Oh shit dude! Oh god, I’m so late. The show starts in like an hour and I haven’t even practised. Oh fuck, Charlie’s gonna kill me!”

Dennis was quick to meet his side, comforting hands pressing on his shoulders. “Hey, hey, calm down. What’s up? What are you late for?”

“My goddamn show tonight Dennis! Fuck, I gotta go I’m so sorry.”

Dennis’ expression shifted, now pinched and confused and slightly hurt at Mac’s sudden insistence to leave. Mac tried to break free from Dennis grip but the other man held steadfast. “Hey look, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. What goddamn show?”

Oh goddamn Dennis and his lack of common fucking knowledge on anything mainstream. Mac ignored Dennis’ questions and made a move for the door. Suddenly he felt a hand wrapped tight around his wrist, pulling him back. He turned around and was met with those baby blue eyes, now slightly glossy and oh so pained looking. “Hey, hey” Dennis said softly, “Where are you going?”

Mac felt his heart break a little as he had to twist free, wrapping his free hand around the door handle. “Look, I-I gotta go Den, like right now. I’m so sorry dude, I swear, I’ll be back tomorrow morning okay? Please don’t be mad at me.” Before he could look at Dennis’ hurt expression again, he wrenched open the door and sprinted out into the cool night air, leaving Dennis standing in the doorway.

\---------------------------

“Oh pick up the goddamn phone you bitch. Come on, come on..” Dennis muttered angrily to himself, as he tried to phone Dee once again, ringing echoing through his apartment. Finally she picked up and Dennis wasted no time to start ranting. “He fucking ran away! Without an explanation! What the fuck Deandra! We were connecting, we had something special blooming and he just sprinted off into the night for no damn good reason!”

There was silence on the other end for a second before Dee huffed out a laugh. “Well hello to you too Dennis. What happened? Your new boy toy ditch you?”

Dennis spluttered angrily, “I- No wh- Fuck you. He’s not my boy toy. God, I hate you sometimes. No, Mac just disappeared off into the night, claiming about being late to some show or something!”

“Dennis.. you seriously have no idea who this guy is do you?” She took the silence from her brother as a means to continue. “Oh, you dumb piece of shit. Dennis, that’s Mac! From like, the biggest rock band in the 21st century! Chemical Toilet! How can you not know him! The show he’s probably talking about is his sold out concert tonight idiot!”

Oh. Dennis paused, processing the information ringing in his ears. Come to think of it, Mac had mentioned something about Chemical Toilet earlier, the name vaguely familiar to him. Dennis still had no idea who they were. 

“Look, just.. go to your laptop right now, okay? Search up Chemical Toilet. Now, Dennis.”

“Okay, okay, you bitch! Jesus, enough with the rushing!”

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, still on call, he flipped open his laptop and opened google, tentatively typing in the band’s name. Instantly, over a million search results popped up: the band’s wikipedia, album list, music videos and resale tickets for shows reaching well over $5000. He clicked on images and, just as promised, thousands of photos of Mac appeared. Mac, in heavy eyeliner and blood spattered clothes, wrapped in chains and leather, shredding his guitar on stage in venues bigger than Dennis had ever seen, glamour muscles tensed and on display, glistening with sweat. Mac looked .. very hot. Dennis cleared his throat. “Holy shit.”

“See! How you could not recognise him is baffling. You just chatted up one of the biggest celebrities in music, bozo.”

Dennis was still rendered speechless, fixated on image after image of Mac, eyes circled black, glaring at the camera with an air of rockstar arrogance Dennis couldn’t get enough of. He felt the heat rush to his cheeks (and another area he stubbornly ignored) and couldn’t care less of whatever Dee was still rambling about through the speaker. 

Inspired, he opened youtube, scanning through their music videos before clicking on their most popular and raising the volume. “Look, Dee I-I gotta go okay. See you tomorrow or whatever” He heard Dee’s knowing snort before cutting her off, uninterested in anything she had to reply. 

Blinking heavily, his eyes actually burning, Dennis squinted, tearing his gaze off of the computer screen. Fuck, what time is it? Early enough for sunlight to stream through the tiny gap in his curtains. Dennis fell back on the sofa and groaned loudly. Ok, so maybe he had gotten a bit carried away and spent all night watching and listening to everything Chemical Toilet had ever produced. Whatever, it was no big deal. All he had to do was put some extra concealer on to cover the accentuated eye bags and no one could tell. Bones aching, he stood up and stretched, groaning some more for good measure. He fumbled for his phone and checked the time. 8am, not bad. Factoring in his morning routine, he could make it to the shop by 10, silently wishing that Mac would stop by. 

After completing his lengthy beauty regime, he was out the door by 9:30, with enough time to spare to grab a Starbucks. He contemplated getting Mac something but decided against it, realising Mac probably had a team full of doting servants that would get him his own, no need to waste his own money. Content, he made it to the shop as predicted, 10am sharp, properly caffeinated. Nestling behind the counter, he tried to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible, definitely not fixated on the door in wait of a certain customer. 

30 minutes passed by, then another. Then another hour. Dennis was growing impatient. If he did happen to be waiting on Mac, which he wasn’t, then Mac would be awfully rude standing him up like this.Frustrated, he flung his empty coffee cup across the store, softly thudding against some cheap romance shit Dee had insisted he order in. The singular customer, some middle aged divorcee, looked up startled, to which Dennis responded with a scoff. If Mac wanted to be a dick and not show up, especially after his dramatic exit last night, then Dennis wouldn’t be the one to chase after him. After 15 minutes of considerable sulking, Dennis’ grumbling to himself was interrupted by the chime of the bell. He almost fell off his seat in the haste to see who walked in. Wide eyed browns met his then Mac gave a soft relieved smile. “Dennis!” He padded over, smile dampening as Dennis’ sour expression never slipped, still pissed off Mac was late. It was silent for a beat or two, the pair standing on opposite sides of the counter before Dennis spoke. “Where the hell were you.” His tone was clipped and Mac winced.

“Look, I-I’m so sorry about last night man. I didn’t mean to run out on you like that, I was just late as shit and even then I barely made it in time. I-” Mac was cut off by Dennis’ hand in the air, signalling to stop. Mac tilted his head but, for reasons unknown to even himself, complied and shut up. Dennis paused, then spoke.

“I know about your band. I, uh, looked you up last night.” Dennis noticed Mac’s eyes lighting up and carried on. “You’re pretty big, huh. Not bad, uh, not bad.” Dennis was terrible at giving compliments, but the short, stilted praise seemed to satisfy Mac, his face glowing. 

“Thanks man! That’s where I had to go last night, y’know? Concert. Again, I’m sorry man I-” Dennis sighed and cut him off again, placing his hand over Mac’s where it rested on the counter, enjoying the instant flush it caused on Mac’s cheeks, his long eyelashes fluttering. 

“Mac, don’t worry about it, honestly. I’m just.. glad you’re here now.” Dennis never usually let himself grow soft like this, become this exposed with his emotions, especially with someone he’d known less than 12 hours. Hell, he wasn’t even this emotional with his own twin sister, and he’d known her all his life. Mac’s eyes grew ever wider yet softer at the edges, gazing at Dennis like he was the only thing in the whole world. They stood there for a while; Mac recounting the concert last night then interrogating Dennis with questions about what songs he listened to, did he like them while Dennis learned that Mac pretty much hated a lot of their new stuff (“Too much influence by the record label, it’s not authentic bro.”) All the while, Dennis never dared to move his hand off Mac’s, too scared to shatter this precious moment, scared he might never get it back. Dennis was mid-recount of his opinions on their recent music video when Mac’s phone started ringing. He winced and took it out, declining the call but let out a soft gasp. 

“Shit, Jesus christ, not again.” He turned to Dennis, puppy dog eyes in full effect. “Look, I- uh. I gotta go. We have a show in DC tonight and my plane kinda leaves in an hour. I’m so sorry man. Look, can I give you my number? So we can keep in contact?”

Dennis dipped his head and sighed. Goddammit. He should have known this was coming, of course Mac had actual shit to do. Goddamn him for getting attached so quick. Looking up, he relented into a sad smile after seeing the picture of hurt on Mac’s face.

“Yeah, yeah dude that’s fine. Here give me your phone.”

Without any of the caution Dennis expected from a celebrity handing their phone to a complete stranger, Mac held it out for Dennis, looking slightly relieved. Dennis quickly opened his contact list (surprisingly small, he noted) and entered his number, signing his contact name off with a heart. With a self satisfied smile, he returned Mac’s phone, their fingertips brushing, sending sparks flying up Dennis’ arm. They shared a sad smile, trying to take in as much of the other as they could, imprinting them in their memory.

“Hey, uh, I guess I’ll walk you out then.” Dennis chirped, Mac giving vague affirmations, looking entirely reluctant. Granted, it was a 5 second walk to the door so neither man was entirely satisfied upon reaching the exit. Standing awkwardly, Mac inched the door open, prolonging his time spent within the store as much as possible. He quickly nodded before attempting to duck out, before Dennis quickly caught his wrist, pulling him back.

“Hey, don’t forget to call okay?” And with all the confidence of a man who was not getting slightly (majorly) heartbroken, Dennis leaned forward and kissed Mac’s cheek, relishing in the stars exploding in Mac’s eyes, the dazed look clouding his features. Mac stood there for a second or two, a soft grin spreading across his face. God, Dennis thought, he’s beautiful. Mac chuckled softly, a sweet sound that rang in Dennis’ ears.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll- uh, I’ll call.” Mac continued to smile as he slipped out the door, back into the Philly streets, bathed in the afternoon sunshine, though it could hardly outshine the grin on his face.

_______________________

Mac never called. It had been over 3 months and he never called. Dennis tried not to let it get to him, the man probably had hundreds of groupies falling at his feet, begging to sleep with him, all across the country. Dennis wasn’t special. Just another nameless face in another city, one of many he suspected. Still, it was a dick move on Mac’s part. Dennis did all that emotional vulnerability crap only to blanked, never to be contacted again. Whatever, it’s whatever. Dennis didn’t care. He didn’t. If he turned off the radio or tv whenever there was any mention of Chemical Toilet, that was just because their music was shitty. (Nothing else, shut UP Dee!)

The autumn wind blew strong and fierce, piercing cold and making Dennis’ face flush. He ducked into the shop as quick as possible, shedding off his coat and hoodie (multiple layers were essential - he was naturally ice cold) and flopped onto his chair. Sighing, he closed his eyes for a second. He could really not be bothered with sitting in this shit hole all day but Frank required him to be here at least 4 days a week or he wasn’t paying the bills so Dennis had to drag himself out of his warm comfortable weighted blanket at home to sit in this piece of shit. 

The day dragged by painfully slowly, Dennis was certain he’d have more fun sanding his teeth down with a nail file than sit alone all day. By the time the sun was ever so slightly beginning to set, Dennis took that as a sign to leave. Standing up and stretching, relishing in the satisfying crack his bones made, he collected the small army of mugs gathering on the counter (he had needed a lot of coffee to get through the day, okay?) and made his way to the back room. Setting them down in the sink, vowing to himself he’d do them tomorrow, he stood for a second and gazed out the window, just observing the world moving on around him. He watched a black cat hop across fences, mesmerising by the precise agility, how it made walking across pole thing fences look so easy. His thoughts were interrupted by the tinkle of the bell. Jesus, what customer was coming in at this time, don’t they have literally anything better to do than be in this shit hole. “Hey! Fuck off, we’re closed!” He yelled over his shoulder, back to the door. Silence followed. Whoever was in was choosing to ignore him. Dennis groaned loudly and stormed into the main shop, rubbing his eyes. “Come on, piss off already! We’re closed dickwad! Don’t you have anything better to-”

Dennis froze in the doorway, eyes blown wide open. A familiar pair of soft, chocolate brown eyes stared back.

“Hey Dennis.”

“You-” 

Dennis was lost for words, a rare occurrence. What the fuck was he doing here? He leaves me in silence for three months and has the balls to just, show up? Mac stood there sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. Dennis spluttered, filled with so many emotions he didn’t know where to begin. After 20 seconds of open and closing his mouth, he choked out, “You dick.”

Mac wore his emotions on his sleeve, it wasn’t hard to tell, so Dennis watched his face shift as he went through every emotion in the book; hurt, pain, relief that Dennis was at least speaking to him, confusion then anger. His eyebrows creased, chest puffing up in self defence. “What?! I’m the dick?! Dude, you never spoke to me for like three months! I was waiting on you!”

Dennis scoffed, loud and harsh, reeling back in rage filled disbelief. There was no way Mac was that stupid. Dennis was going to kill him. “ME?!” he barked, then took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and not choke the other man out in the middle of his own goddamn store. “Mac, you dumb son of a bitch, I gave you my number. You were supposed to text me! Oh, you goddamn stupid son of a bitch!” 

“Oh.”

Mac just stood there, dumbfounded, realisation dawning on his face. Dennis could practically see the lightbulb switch on. Dumbly, Mac took out his phone, scrolled for a second then tapped lamely. Dennis' phone began to buzz on the counter, Unknown Caller flashing up on the screen. They both glanced towards it, then Dennis slowly turned his glare back to Mac, who was beginning to look pretty mortified, colour drained from his pretty face, leaving him chalk white. 

Dennis dragged a hand over his face. Jesus Christ, of course he had fallen for stupidest goddamn bitch to ever walk the earth. “Unbelievable.” he muttered, mainly to himself. Fingers pressed against his temples, he contemplated his next move here; obviously his heart was screaming at him to go to Mac but his head told him to play it cool, make Mac feel bad for just a little bit longer, play hard to get. He looked up at Mac, who was now determinedly staring at the floor, like nothing else had ever been quite so interesting. Dennis cleared his throat to catch his attention. “Hey. Hey!” he snapped his fingers near Mac’s face, “Mac, look. Despite having been abandoned for three months, I’m not mad. I’m- I’m just happy to see you again.” He trailed off near the end but Mac still caught it, head whipping up, looking at Dennis like a lovesick puppy. Jesus christ, he was in deep. 

“I guess I just.. I don’t know.. missed you?” he tried not to scowl as Mac’s face softened even more. “Don’t look at me like that, don’t let it get to your head. I’m sure you had loads of replacements for me on your grand tour” That last part came out rather harsher than intended, Mac recoiling. Dennis wanted to apologise. God, Mac had made him soft as hell. 

“What? No, Dennis, there’s no one I swear. I would never! Besides, there’s never anyone right anyway, y’know?”

Mac grew slightly timid as he trailed off, breaking eye contact and laughing nervously. Dennis tilted his head, gaze deepening. That last part caught Dennis’ attention, there was more to Mac than he had first suspected. Edging slightly closer, he leaned on the counter, and peered closer at the man in front of him. 

“What do you mean?”

Mac huffed another nervous laugh, seemingly regretting ever opening his mouth. “Just that, I don’t know, everyone around me, apart from Charlie, is just so two-faced and shallow. No one really gets me y’know. I feel as if I can’t truly find someone down to earth, who likes me for me, not for my fame or money or whatever. I don’t know, it’s weird. I just feel so lonely sometimes Den.”

Dennis melted. The use of the affectionate nickname coupled with Mac’s self conscious and pained expression struck somewhere within Dennis. He wanted to hug Mac, to hold him and tell him everything would be okay, to kiss him hard until neither could think straight, to protect him from every piece of shit around him. To tell him he was the one he was looking for. Dennis ached to do any and all of that but instead, what came out of his mouth was, “You want a beer? Got some in the back fridge.”

Mac looked up, the corners of his mouth twitching up, as he nodded. “Yeah, that’d be nice dude, thanks.”

Dennis nodded stiffly as he darted to the back room, silently kicking himself. He was never good with emotions, never had been, took solace in animals and things over people most of the time. What Mac said had resonated with him, rung true somewhere deep in his heart and that scared him. The thought that someone else truly felt what he felt was intimidating, he was so used to being lonely all his life, to dealing with everything independently. It was just how he worked. Mac threw a spanner in the well oiled machine of his life but Dennis, surprisingly, didn’t seem to care all that much. Maybe that was the scariest part. 

He returned with a 6 pack in hand, placing it on the counter. Mac smiled at him and took one, cracking it open and downing half of it in one go. Dennis smiled back, impressed, and grabbed his own, taking a long, deep swig. They needed to be drunk if they were going to be talking about emotions. 

Silence filled the shop, it was eerie yet oddly calming. Dennis took a breath and, concentrating hard at a mark on the counter, blurted out, “I know what you mean. About the whole.. people thing. I, uh, get it.” Jesus, he felt like he was going to choke. He took another long drink, finishing the can and furrowed his brow. “I’ve been lonely all my life, never felt truly there sometimes. Like I was just a spectator in the midst of everybody else's journeys. I lived with undiagnosed mental illness for half my life, just because everyone brushed me off, classed me as ‘insane’ and shed themselves of the blame. I’m medicated now, I guess, just .. I get you, is what I’m trying to say.” 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, already regretting ever speaking at all when he felt something warm cover his hand, his knuckles white as he clenched his fist on the counter. Mac had his hand over his, calloused fingertips rubbing circles onto his skin. He took a sharp intake of breath, cheeks flushing. Mac used his other hands to gently cup Dennis’ chin, tilting his head up to look at him. Mac was so close Dennis could see the spattering of almost invisible freckles across his face, overcome with the urge to trace every one of them, to kiss his baby soft skin. Mac smiled warmly at him and Dennis could’ve cried right there. Softly, Mac spoke. “C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

“Mac? Come on dude, I’m freezing, where the hell are we going?” Dennis’ teeth chattered as he tailed Mac through streets and alleyways, sidestepping around puddles. Mac strode confidently in front of him, twisting round every now and then to check if Dennis was still there, then he’d flash him a grin and carry on. Their three beers each helped warm them a little but resistance was futile against the piercing chill of the autumn evening. Eventually, the houses petered out around them and they found themselves at the train tracks. Mac turned round with a grin in front of the fence, arms raised in triumph. “Ta-da! C’mon dude, it’s sick in here!”

Dennis grimaced, becoming highly aware of the many dangers that could befall him as they clambered through the fence and into the yard. “If I die, you will get full blame. I’ll sue you for every penny you own, asshole.”

Mac snorted, “Good luck suing me if you’re dead, dipshit.” Dennis huffed and Mac spun around to face him, cheeky grin satisfied upon winning the argument. They had long finished their beers but, at Mac’s insistence, carried them along on the journey, in promise that they’ll come in handy dude, trust me. They danced and tiptoed around the junk littering the ground around them until they came to the tracks. Mac seemed satisfied, sitting himself on the gravel in front of a rusted train. Dennis stood beside him, peering down curiously. Surely he didn’t expect Dennis to actually sit down in the needle swarmed stones, he could contract something and die or sit in shit or something! Mac patted the area beside him, looking up with an innocent smile and suddenly Dennis couldn’t say no. Crouching down, he joined him, legs folded and silence befell them. An old, raggedy looking crow hopped around on the tracks in front of them, Dennis following its every hop as it searched for something, what it could find worth keeping here was beyond him. Soon enough, the crow flew off, obviously realising it was a futile effort. Dennis turned towards Mac. 

“What we doing here, man?” 

Mac sighed, not sadly per say, but it was loaded, his features falling. “When me and Charlie were younger, we had it bad. Charlie much worse than me. So when shit got too much we’d come here and just have fun. Mainly throw rocks at trains. It was our little christmas tradition, coming down here, but we snuck in like once a week too. I know it’s kinda shitty and gross but, I don’t know.. It means something to me, I just wanted to share it with you I guess.” He had his head tilted back, gazing up at the deep blue sky above them. There weren't many stars out, what with the light pollution, but he seemed fascinated all the same. “I would always look up at the sky and tell him stories, of us far, far away from here; didn’t matter what happened in them, we would always be free, always somewhere else. It would make us feel better, to know that this wasn’t it, there was so much else out there.” He let out a sad laugh. “Doesn’t really work as well anymore.”

Dennis continued to look at him, trace his features in his mind, memorising the way his eyes sparkled, the way his eyelashes fluttered when he got nervous, the freckles sprinkled across his face, invisible unless you really looked, his soft pink lips, the light stubble framing his jawline. Dennis couldn’t remember the last time he had thought about somebody like this. It was jarring and scary and unfamiliar but he didn’t want to pull away. Mac turned his head and caught his eye, flushing at the attention.

They sat like that, enveloped in their own world, before Mac seemed to remember what he was here to do. Grinning, he picked up an empty beer can and pelted it against the train, the metallic clang echoing around the empty yard, flocks of pigeons scattering across the sky. Dennis scowled at the sudden noise but found himself grabbing a can too and throwing it hard against the rusted red of the train. They turned to each and burst into full, genuine laughter, alcohol letting their smiles come easy. It was such innocent, simple fun that Dennis couldn’t help but grin. He hadn’t smiled this much in so long, he’d forgotten what it was like. After using up their beer cans, they switched to rock, flinging stone after stone against the train, a symphony of deep metallic ringing echoing through the dusk air. 

Laughing hard, Mac leaned back, Dennis following suit. They lay shoulder to shoulder on the cold, jagged terrain but Dennis couldn’t find it in himself to care. Laughter dying down they smiled into the sky then at each other, heads titled uncomfortably. Dennis could lay like this forever. Mac’s pupils dilated, face glowing and youthful under the starlight. “Hey Den” he whispered. 

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t get mad at me.”

Before Dennis could question him, he felt a soft pair of lips meet his, dry and warm, just pressing against him. He hummed in surprise and pressed back, his heart beating so loud he was certain they could both hear it. Angling his head a little, he tried to deepen the kiss but suddenly cold air flushed his face as Mac was sitting up, breathing heavily. Dennis, still lying shell shocked on the gravel, tried to catch his breath. Holy shit that had just happened. A dazed smile spread over his face. Hastily standing up, back still to him, Mac announced, “Come on, it’s getting dark and cold as hell bro. I’ll walk you home.” It came out in a rush and Dennis could imagine the rosy blush spreading over his cheeks. 

Dusting himself off, he joined Mac’s side, who was desperately avoiding eye contact, and they made their way back through the yard in silence. Every once in a while, their shoulders would brush, fingers catching, and Mac would recoil as if touching a hot flame. Dennis didn’t take it to heart, classic closet case, he knew it all too well. The night grew ever colder and darker, the two illuminated by streetlights. The city around them didn’t stay silent, an orchestra of car horns filling the air, music floating from houses and lonely dogs barking. It was peaceful, Dennis feeling calmer than he had in months. Every once in a while he would softly give Mac directions towards his apartment, receiving wordless nods each time. Eventually, they reached his block and both men stood awkwardly at the entrance to the apartment, stealing glances when the other wasn’t looking. 

Dennis rocked back on his heels, “Well, this is me.”  
Mac hummed, making no effort to move away, staring vacantly somewhere beside Dennis’ head. Dennis sighed, evident Mac was closed off for the foreseeable future. Mac hummed to himself then ducked forward, kissing Dennis’ cheek, flying back just as quick. Gasping, Dennis started to smile, he couldn’t help it, Mac’s priceless expression of pure shock at his own actions making his heart flutter. Boldly, he stepped forward. 

“You missed, asshole.”

“Wha-“

Before Mac could reply, Dennis cupped his face and kissed him hard, leaning against Mac’s stronger frame and desperately trying to convey everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. Mac froze, terrified, but his heart quickly took over, urging him to kiss back. So he did. Tilting his head, he gripped Dennis’ waist and deepened the kiss, getting lost in the satisfied hum it elicited from Dennis. Sparks were flying behind his eyes, his chest beating so hard he thought he was going to pass out, this was everything he ever wanted, everything he thought he didn’t deserve. Dennis tentatively slipped his tongue through Mac’s lips, he tasted of beer and something sweet, and got lost in the feeling of Mac; of being held, of being kissed like he was the most precious thing in the world. No one had made Dennis feel like this before, his mind reeling but he wouldn’t trade this feeling for the world. Hell, meteors could come crashing down around them and he didn’t think he would stop kissing Mac. Mac made him feel safe and that realisation, the naming of the feeling building in his chest, hit him like a tonne of bricks. Pulling back, he rested his forehead against Mac’s and smiled, natural and soft. Mac whined slightly from the loss of contact but gazed deep into Dennis’ eyes, smiling back. God, they were like teenagers, necking on the doorstep in the middle of the goddamn street. Dennis bumped his nose against Mac’s and whispered against his lips, “When do you have to go?”

“Not for another week.”

Dennis grinned wickedly and grabbed Mac by the wrist, opening the door. “Wanna come to my place?”

Mac’s eyes sparkled and he nodded frantically, puppy dog expression back on his face, Dennis melting. Gripping Mac’s hand tight, he led him up the stairs, giggling like a goddamn schoolgirl all the way. Mac’s face was flushed and he was probably the most beautiful person Dennis had ever seen. He fumbled with his keys and finally unlocked his door, the pair stumbling through the doorway. The lock clicked and before Mac had time to think, Dennis had him pressed up against the door, trailing kisses down his neck, whispering sweet nothings into the sensitive skin. 

“Lost for words, pretty boy?” Dennis teased. 

Mac grinned and bit his earlobe, Dennis gasping sharply, then he was being whisked off the floor, Mac holding him bridal style. It was adorable and cute but mainly hot because Mac was strong as hell. Mac smiled at him, satisfied he caught Dennis off guard then kissed him again, slower and deeper. 

Pulling back he whispered, “There was never anyone but you Den. Nobody but you.”

**Author's Note:**

> god thank u SO SO much for reading!!!!!!!!! ily!!!! come on twt and scream abt macden w me im always down!!!!!
> 
> @cateyesgilfoyle


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